The Price of Family
by LadyJessy
Summary: --V’s story: 3/3-- Viper, a changeling thief, has been adopted by the wizard Tursol. She is now masquerading as Varien, his long lost son. For the first time, he sees what having a family is really like. At least, that's what he thinks. --Abuse, Dark--


_Author's note:_ I'd like to thank Shavaineth for being a beta reader for my story. Her comments were great and help a great deal to make this story work.

The Price of Family

I was staring out the window again. Unfortunately, most of the window was blocked by the enormous hedge that circled the house. I'd spent many days just staring at that hedge before I realized that if I pushed my bed under the window, I could lay back on it and see a small birch tree which grew in the neighbor's yard over the wall of leaves. One of the best things about the tree was the birds that nested in it. At least the birds did things, unlike the hedge that just sat there all day. Normally, on sunny days like this, the birds were very active, flitting about the tree in a rush. Except for today. I'd been lying here, drenched in the summer heat, waiting for them to come back, but nothing even twitched in the nests.

It was the peak of summer, and the house was stuffy and humid. I'd already abandoned my shirt to help stay cool, but my pants stuck to my skin in sweaty patches. I envied the breeze that rustled the leaves outside. If I could've opened a door, or even a single window, it would've helped cool the house off, but my father had magicked all the windows and doors shut. He said it was part of my punishment.

There were other ways to stay cool, of course. I knew that my father had used some sort of magic in his study, so it always stayed cool. But if I went in there, I'd actually have to be in the same room with the man. Which usually meant he'd make me do chores. Or something worse.

I sighed, sifting slightly on the bed, and eyed the window latch. _It might be worth trying, just one more time_, I though, _if it meant getting a little air circulating inside the room._ I sat up, and tugged on the latch before I lost my nerve. As usual, it didn't budge and a familiar jolt of electricity ran up my arm. I jerked my hand away quickly, my eyes tearing from the pain. _I guess the spell is still there._

I looked at the tree as I rubbed my aching arm. The birds still hadn't returned. Of course, I knew there were other windows in the house, ones with better views, but if I left my room, I might run into my father. I was supposed to be reading a book about King Jarot of Galifar, who's death cause the War to break out. If Tursol knew I wasn't reading, he'd find a chore for me to do. However, this time of day, he was usually holed up in his study and tended to leave me alone if I stayed in my room. It was only when I started roaming around the house that he showed up at unexpected moments with annoying tasks for me to do. It was safer just to stay put and wait for the birds to return. Boring, but safe.

Father... the word still seemed strange to me. It was something that other people had, not me. Although I am now known as Varien Perryn, son of Tursol Perryn, three months ago I was a female thief known only as Viper, an orphan who'd lived on the streets my entire life. Viper had been my main identity within the thieve's guild, but, as a changeling, it was easy to change my sex and appearance. I've impersonated so many different people during the fourteen years of my life that I couldn't remember them all. I've never been only one person, one identity before. And without a family, there had been no reason to always look or act like just one person. In fact, as a thief, that was a good way to get caught.

That all changed when I met Tursol. My first meeting with him had not been under the best circumstances. A guy name Pix and I had broken into Tursol's house to steal a very rare magical item. It was supposed to be an easy job. We knew the item was in the house, we knew the owner wasn't there, and any servants would think that I was Tursol.

Except, nothing that night went the way it was supposed to. I ended up snared in magical trap while got the prized item he'd come for and then Pix abandoned me. Tursol had returned home to find his house ransacked, his things stolen and me immobilized in his study.

But he hadn't called the city guards. Instead, he offered me a deal I couldn't refuse. In one night, Viper had become Varien and I'd gained a father.

It would've been a sweet deal–three meals a day, a warm place to sleep, a family–except for the catch. There was always a catch. I've learned that everything in life has strings attached, and this was no exception. This string was in the form of a contract.

A magically binding contract.

I knew that there were bad people in the world. People that had no problem doing evil, horrendous things to others. I've seen a gang beat up a man because he looked at them the wrong way. I've known people who rape young girls just to hear them scream. I've watched a guy murder a baby to teach the parents a lesson in obedience. I'd thought I'd seen every type of evil there was. But this contract made me realize there were some things even more evil and twisted in the world. This contract took the meaning of evil further than I thought possible.

Even now, I don't want to think about the specifics of the contract. It makes me dizzy and nauseous when I think about the day I'd signed it. Of course, I hadn't had much of a choice in the matter. Either I signed it, or he killed me. I wish he had killed me that day. I now understand there are some things even worse than death.

If it hadn't been for the contract, I probably would've settled into family life just fine. But when I finally realized exactly what the contract meant, and what my new father had done, I couldn't just leave it alone. I couldn't let anyone control me in that way. I wanted to be free to make my own decisions about my future. Before now, the Thief Lord had been calling the shots, telling me what to do and who to do it to. But I'd always had an out. I could always disappear, become someone else, and no one could find me. However, the contract made me little more than a slave, and I hated it. The way I saw it, I only had one option: If Tursol was dead, then the contract was void and I was free... right?

It had been easy to get the poison, and even easier to slip it into his afternoon tea. I'd made it 17 miles outside of town before I found out the poison didn't work. Although I couldn't see him, his voice whispered into my ear, into my head.

"Return _now_, and I will be lenient." His fury had sent goose bumps up my spine, and I'd wondered if he would kill me for what I'd done. I would have, if someone had tried to poison me.

My memories about the punishment are foggy, at best. I know he took me into one of the forbidden rooms. And my father was there, of course. That much was clear. After that, things got hazy. I know his invisible creatures were there. I'd heard the creatures in the house before, always following me, watching me. But this time, they didn't just make the floor squeak or slam doors. They brought Tursol things, bad things, from the shelves. Things that caused pain and made me scream.

After that, I decided trying to kill a powerful wizard just wasn't worth it. Only, now I had even less freedom than before. I wasn't allowed to leave the house and all the windows and doors had been magically locked. To make matters worse, I was only allowed to be Varien while inside the house. Changing forms was second nature to me and being forced to stay in one form was almost painful. Like being stuck in clothes that were too tight. It was restricting.

Although, to be fair, having a family hadn't been all bad. Enough to eat and a place to sleep were just some of the benefits. Tursol also taught me how to read and write. Of course, there were public schools in Vathirond that taught children the basics of reading, writing, counting and history. The problem was, when you're worrying about your next meal, school doesn't seem important anymore. Now that I didn't have to worry about surviving the streets, I had more than enough time to study. It didn't take long before I'd read through most of the books in the house. The books that I was allowed to read, anyways. Once Tursol thought I was proficient enough, he started having me take notes for him during his more mundane experiments. These experiment usually bored me to tears, but _anything_ was better than washing dishes or sweeping floors, so I didn't complain too much.

The other benefit of having Tursol as a father, was the conversations I got to overhear. I got the impression from his visitors that Tursol wasn't well liked–hell, _I_ didn't even like him!–but he was respected as a knowledgeable sage. Many of the upper class of Vathirond came to him for advice and I gained many useful tidbits of information from their conversations. Even watching how they interacted was useful. During my life, I hadn't had many opportunities to observe the mannerisms of the rich and powerful. However, after three months of observing their visits, I was sure I could properly mimic them, if the opportunity ever arose. On the streets, it was generally known that I didn't deal in stolen goods, but in useful information. If a person wanted dirt on someone, chances were I could find it, and find it more quickly than anyone else. Knowledge was a form of power. If you were the only one that knew about something, then you had the power over that subject. You could control who knew that information, and manipulate that knowledge for your own gain. So far my informative contacts had been limited to the shadier side of the city, and there were only so many people who are interested in that kind of information. Now, though, between the contacts I knew in the slums and the people I could meet through Tursol, I could potentially know every key person in the city. After that, there wouldn't be anything I couldn't get, or didn't know.

Of course, that depended on Tursol ever letting me out of the house again.

I sighed and glanced out the window again. The birds were still gone and even the hint of wind had vanished. It was days like this, I couldn't decide which was worse, doing chores or not having anything to do at all. At least, on the streets, there was always something to do. You were always struggling to survive. During my first days here, doing nothing had seemed like a luxury, but soon even that became dull. Chores, of course, were one way to keep busy, but they also seemed pointless. Why clean something that was just going to get dirty tomorrow? And in this heat, I didn't want to move, let alone scrub the floors or polish the silver or some other labor intensive task. Besides, Tursol had his creepy invisible creatures that could do everything I could do, and generally did it better. I hated the fact that they were constantly around me; the threat I couldn't see or touch. After the whole episode in the forbidden room, I was under no illusion that they weren't dangerous. Even if they couldn't cause pain directly, they could do other things just as bad. I tried to avoid them, if I could, but there were only so many places I could go in the house, and it's hard to avoid things you can't see.

I jumped when the door scraped open behind me. My adrenaline shot up another notch when I saw my father walk in. I scrambled off the bed, grabbing my discarded shirt in the processes. Tursol stood there, as impressive as ever. Despite the summer heat, he was dressed elegantly in heavy black wizarding robes made out of expensive fabrics. Standing perfectly straight, he used one hand to slick a strand of long, black hair behind is ear. He looked at me impassively while he waited for me to make myself presentable; he always made a big deal about being presentable. He said it would reflected poorly on him if I wasn't dressed properly.

His piercing blue eyes made me fumble with my shirt as I rushed to put it on. The fabric rubbed painfully on my skin where the sun had burned it through the window, but, finally, I was fully clothed in front of him.

"Son," he said, his eyes giving my attire a quick once over, "I need you to go purchase these items for me." He held out a small slip of paper.

I took the paper automatically, while my shocked mind tried to processes what he'd just said.

"You're lettin' me go _out?_"

Tursol's eyes narrowed, and I flinched slightly. "I trust you will... behave yourself..."–and he said this in a way that made me wonder what he really wanted to say–"And will return promptly when you're finished."

"Uh, sure. No problem, I guess."

I looked down to scan the list while he continued to talk. "It shouldn't take you more than two hours, I would think. I will need the ingredients by then."

Only one of the items on the list would normally be difficult to track down, but, fortunately, I knew someone who would probably have it in stock. It would take less than an hour to gather the items.

But I wasn't about to tell my father that.

I looked up from the list. "Some of these aren't cheap."

For a moment, a slight smile tugged at Tursol's lips, before his face became unreadable again. I wondered if the heat was making me hallucinate. My father didn't smile.

Tursol held out a small bag. "I'm sure it will be enough."

I took the coin purse, glanced inside, and grinned. I stuffed the note and pouch into my pocked. "I'm sure it will be," I said as I stepped passed him into the hallway.

The moment I stepped into the hall, I heard him start chanting a spell. Panic overtook everything else and I jerked away from him, tripping over a rug as I did so. I tried to brace myself on the wall, still trying to get away, but instead my hand hit a gilded mirror. For a second, I thought I'd caught myself in time. Then the cord the mirror hung from snapped, and I crashed to the floor, taking the mirror with me.

"Fuck!" I winced as the glass cut deeper into my hands and I frantically tried to think of what I'd done to make him mad. Usually, Tursol only cast spells around me as a form of punishment. I wondered what this spell did and how bad it would be this time.

The casting stopped, and my father stepped into the hall.

"Damn it, I haven't done nothin' wrong, I swear!" I babbled, hyperventilating as I tried to scoot farther away from him.

I watched as Tursol's eyes swept over the scene, taking in my disheveled clothes, my bleeding hand and the broken mirror. He looked amused.

"Whatever it was, I'm sorry! Please!"

Tursol raised one elegant eyebrow. "You did want me to drop the spell on the door, didn't you? It would be hard for you to leave, if I didn't."

I sucked in a long breath of air, looking up at him. "That's what you were fuckin' doing? Why didn't ya just say so?"

Tursol just waited, his face neutral.

"Oh..." Slowly, I untangled my feet from the rug and stood up carefully so my feet wouldn't be cut on the glass.

"You can leave by the front door now," he said. Then he looked at the broken mirror. "You will clean that up when you return."

I scowled.

"Aren't you leaving?" Tursol asked casually.

"Of course," I said, turning around quickly and walked towards the front door. I reached out to turn the knob, and hesitated. Was the spell really gone? I'd been shocked by that knob too many times to fully trust it, and I wouldn't put it past my father to lie about removing the spell. I could feel Tursol watching me, and I rubbed my palm against my leg, the sweat stinging the new cuts.

In the end, I was a thief at heart. "I don't suppose you'd open the door for me, would you?" I called back, trying to act casual.

Tursol made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. I heard him stride towards me, and watched as he reached around to turn the knob, pushing the door outwards so it swung open.

I sighed in relief, and quickly made my get away. I was halfway down the path to the street before Tursol said, "We shall... talk... when you get back about why you shouldn't use foul language in my presence."

I scowled again. "Talking" usually meant I was going to be punished. I wanted to curse again, but bit my tongue. Instead, I forced myself to smile and wave back at him over my shoulder. "Can't wait," I said through clenched teeth.

When I heard the door shut, I considered letting out a string of curses just to be difficult, but resisted the urge. My father seemed to know what I was doing even when he wasn't there and I had no way of knowing when he was watching and when he wasn't. It was safer just to assume he was always watching.

As I walked down the flower lined streets of the Garden District, I settled on thinking of every curse word I knew that would apply to my father._ Mother-fucking_ _sadistic bastard_ was the first one that came to mind. By the time I'd reached the Market District, I'd exhausted all the traditional curses and started making up new ones. _Frog humping son of a whore_ also seemed to fit real well.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The wind had started up again, and, for the first time in three months, I finally got some relief from the heat. I realized I'd missed feeling the sun on my face. Looking out a window on a sunny day was a lot different than actually being outside. Breathing in the fresh and hearing the noises of the city around me, it hit me just how acutely I'd missed be outside. I'd forgotten, in my boredom, all the little details that I loved about city life. The yelling of the merchants advertizing their wares, the laughter of children running in the streets, the chatter of ladies gossiping while knitting on their porches.

God, I hoped that it wouldn't be another three months before I could experience this again.

It had taken me only forty-five minutes to collect everything on Tursol's list, and I still had a good sum of money left over. Nicking things out of pockets and away from merchants was one of the few things I'm decent at.

Wondering what to do with the remaining time, I nearly tripped over a small girl that ran in front of me towards the blacksmiths. She was clothed in a yellow sun dress and clutched a bundle of flowers in her hand.

"Daddy, daddy, I brought you something," she yelled, running into the forge and stopping in front of the head blacksmith. "I picked them myself."

I watched as the girl, who was about seven years old, thrust the flowers at a large, burly man named Uthar. He was the owner of one of the town's two blacksmiths. I knew from experience that he always dealt honestly and fairly with people, but was also someone you didn't want to get mad. I'd seen him break fingers of people who tried to nick things from his smithy. I'd known he had a son named Cord who usually helped Uthar in the forge, but I hadn't known he'd had a daughter. It seems incomprehensible that this huge man could sire such a petite little girl.

Uthar thrust the mass of metal back into the fire, wiped the soot off his hands with a piece of semi-clean cloth, and squatted down next to the girl.

"They're beautiful, lass," he said as he hugged her. "Did ya mother send ya?"

"Yes, and she said you should come home for lunch!"

He kissed the top of his daughter's head, before letting his workers know he was leaving. Then, with his big hand engulfing hers, they walked down the street. "Well, let's not keep mother waiting," he said, smiling down at her.

My stomach knotted painfully and my head hurt. _Was that how families were supposed to act?_

The pair was easy to follow. Uthar was one of the biggest men I knew, and his head was easy to see above the crowd. I listened as he asked the girl about what she'd done that day and the girl teased him for smelling funny. They stopped outside a decent looking house in the Market District where a middle-aged woman was sitting out front, sewing.

"Mommy, I told him, just like you said," the girl yelled. I'd overheard that she was named Penti.

"Didn't Cord come with you?" the woman asked, standing up and pocketing her sewing.

"He never showed up this morning," Uthar said gruffly as the trio entered the house.

I knew where Cord probably was. Cord was two or three years older than me, roughly 16 or 17, and if he wasn't helping out his father at the smithy, he was usually down at the Dancin' Bear, a popular gambling inn located in the seedier part of city. In certain circles, it was known that Cord was an awful card player and an easy mark, but since he was nearly as big as his father, you didn't want him to catch you if he was mad about losing.

More importantly, though, I knew what Cord looked like. What better way to know what a real family as like than to experience a normal one?

I found a darkened alley across from Uthar's house. From here, no one would notice me change, and I could make sure that Cord didn't show up unexpectedly. I concentrated on Cord's physically features, but hesitated before making the actual changes. _What if Tursol found out? Was I not supposed to change at all? Or just at home?_ Only one way to find out, I guess.

The change into Cord didn't flow as easily as it should've. It was slow and halting and I had to concentrated extra hard just to get the details right. It was always the little details that gave you away. If they weren't right, people could tell. They might not know what looked wrong, but they would know they didn't look quite right either. Finally, Varien's shoulder length black hair became Cord's messy brown locks, cut short to avoid burning it in the forge. My hands enlarged and were calloused from hammering nails and horse shoes. My arms became muscled from intense physical labor.

When I stepped from the alley, I was no longer Varien, but Cord. My clothes were more expensive than what Cord would wear, but I could probably pass it off by claiming I'd won a large bet last night.

Four long strides brought me to the front door, and I entered, making a point of not knocking. You don't knock if you were supposed to live there.

Laughter abruptly died as three faces looked at me. I shifted, suddenly uneasy. "I figured I'd come have lunch with y'all," I said, automatically deepening my voice to mimic Cord's normal tone and inflection.

Uthar stood abruptly, his figure looming over the table and his face pulled tight with anger. Without a word, he sidestepped the table and one meaty hand clamped around my biceps. For a panicked second, I thought I'd messed up, and they realized I wasn't their son.

"We need to have a... talk... about your behavior, son," Uthar ground out, then dragged me deeper into the house. The panic ebbed; apparently they believed I was their son.

Uthar dragged me down a small, poorly lit hallway and shoved me into a small bedroom at the back of the house. Although I now looked like I had the muscles of a blacksmith's son, they weren't real. Uthar's shove caused me to sprawl on the bed, hitting my elbow painfully on the frame. I tried to make it look casual, as if I'd purposely sat on the bed, but I wasn't sure I pulled it off. Uthar entered the room behind me and shut the door and I began to feel the fluttering of panic again. Automatically, I started looking for an exit, but Uthar was standing in front of the only door. Besides that, there was the bed, a small table and a closed window behind me. There was no way I'd be able to open the window before Uthar got to me.

"Wha's the matter?" I asked, trying to mimic Cord's voice and not show my nervousness at the same time. I couldn't believe this was the same man who'd kissed his daughter's forehead in the street.

I didn't even see the blow. All of a sudden, my cheek was inflamed and black spots danced in front of my eyes. The coppery taste of blood was in my mouth, and my tongue gingerly poked the skin that had been cut on my teeth. When my vision cleared, I reached up and touched the side of my mouth. Seeing the red that stained my fingers, my panic blossomed into fear. I was a lot smaller and weaker than the real Cord. Uthar could accidently kill me with a blow that would only stun his real son.

"You... hit me." I meant it to sound outraged, but I came out weak and wavering. Something inside me twisted. _It wasn't supposed to be like this, was it?_

"I should'a done it a hell'uve a lot sooner. Ya knew that Aggan wanted those nails and bindin's done by the end of the morning–"

"–But I–" The slap this time cause my ears to ring and the metallic taste of blood got stronger.

"I ain't done speakin' yet, boy. I don't want to hear none of your excuses, neither. Ya better start thinkin' 'bout this family and who feeds and clothes ya. You're a hell'uv a lot better off than others your age. Ya got a roof over ya head and food to eat. And ya might not like workin' at the forge, but I've given ya a trade you can support yourself with. Support a family with."

I stared sullenly at Uthar's feet. When Tursol was this mad, it was always better to be quite and not make eye contact. Usually, it was me opening my mouth that got me in trouble in the first place.

"Ya have anything ya wanna say?"

I shook my head, still staring at his feet.

"Fine. You'll come to the forge with me at dawn tomorrow. And after, ya gonna help ya mother with the chores. This family isn't a free ride. So ya better start thinkin' 'bout what's best for the family instead of what's best for you." He paused. "But for now, ya better not leave this room unless I tell ya, got it? Ya stay here and think 'bout whether ya still want to be part of this family, considering that the only other skill ya have besides blacksmithin' is gamblin' 'way money." He sighed. "I'm gonna go finish lunch with ya mother and sister. Ya better be here when I get back."

I didn't look up 'til I heard the door slam. Once I was sure he wasn't coming back, I whirled around to the window behind me. I had maybe fifteen minutes before I had to be home, and I sure as hell wasn't going to spend it here. One family was more than enough for me. At least Tursol didn't hit me. Spells were bad, but somehow the beating from Uthar had been worse. I knew that if Tursol ever did hit me, it would mean I'd made him so mad he couldn't even think of spells to cast. That's when I'd really be in trouble.

I paused before my fingers actually touched the window frame. A small part of me was impressed that Uthar made enough to afford real glass windows, but a bigger part wondered whether I'd get zapped when I touched it. That was what happened when Tursol said I couldn't leave, and I didn't know if they would do the same thing here.

However, there was no way I was going to let Uthar take another couple of swings at me, which is what would happen if I tried to leave by the front door. I took a deep breath, my entire body tense, and pull the frame upward.

Thankfully, nothing zapped me. But the window didn't open either.

I tugged again and it still didn't budge. Panic swelled as I pulled frantically at the frame. _Instead of zapping me, maybe there was some other magic keeping it shut?_ I wondered, my breathing coming fast and shallow._ Or maybe Tursol had just put the magic on me so that _I _couldn't open _any _sort of door or window!_

I fumbled to retrieve the knife I'd borrowed from Tursol's kitchen. _Borrowed_, not stolen. I intended to return it. I'd learned my lesson about stealing from him.

I was about to use the hilt to break the glass when I noticed the latch on the window sill. Tension left me suddenly and I slumped forward, resting my forehead against the cool glass. I wanted to laugh. Or cry. It hadn't been any kind of spell keeping me in. The stupid window had been locked!

I took a couple of deep breaths, swallowing back the hysterical laughter and trying to slow my quickly beating heart.

I flicked the latch open and pushed the window up without a problem. Jumping out, my feet crunched on gravel. Every step away from that house made me breathe a little easier. I was six blocks away before my panic was completely gone, and my skin began to itch to change. I sighed as I found a dark corner to ease back into Varien. _Who knew, after months of being forced to stay in one shape, I would actually be relieved to return to it?_ I realized there was a certain sense of security that came with having an establish identity.

I straightened the collar of my shirt and wiped the blood from my mouth before heading back home. I had to maintain "appearances", after all.

Apparently there was a lot more to having a family than I'd originally thought. There seemed to be a public side and a private side to family life. In public, families acted nice to each other. As if they were happy and everything was okay. In retrospect, Tursol was the same way. He was always very polite and nice to me when we had company and he expected me to act the same. In private, however, people showed their true colors. Families weren't all about being nice and loving. They were about power and controlling those you had power over, like in real life. Parents obviously had power over their children, and thus expected their obedience. You were only nice to those that were obedient, like Penti. Those like Cord had to be reminded who was really in power.

As I walked up the front steps to my house, I realized: That's the price you pay to have a family.


End file.
